


Underneath the Canopy of Stars

by Foxberry



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Dates, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:58:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7027543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxberry/pseuds/Foxberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ Marco couldn’t believe he was here on an actual date, that he was walking beside Jean and that he agreed to this. ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underneath the Canopy of Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainbowd00dles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowd00dles/gifts).



> My half of the art trade with [rainbowd00dles](https://rainbowd00dles.tumblr.com/) who requested Jean and Marco on an awkward first date in a college AU.
> 
> This is a rather personal story for me as it's based on my own awkward date experiences. It makes for a rather amusing read. Enjoy~

Moonlight shone off the ripples of the river when Marco made his way down to the bank. A path of metal and stone curved around its edge, fencing off the dark, murky waters, and set the way towards his date. Marco figured this place, with its parks and boardwalks and busy collection of small restaurants, would be a nice quiet place to meet. Somehow, it only seemed to magnify the fact that this was a first date.

There was a chance he would probably trip over his new shoes, still shiny and uncomfortable as new shoes often were. He’d just wanted to look nice but here he was feeling ridiculous for dressing up. Marco feared he might look like he was trying too hard because he had been waiting for this date for what felt like forever.

The first time Marco had seen Jean had been at Sasha’s place. It had been nothing more than a casual poker night with a few friends, betting with fake chips to represent the money they didn’t have. Connie had rocked up with that mysterious friend of his that Sasha had always talked about. She had been sure to remind Marco that he was handsome, single, and a mean poker player before he had even walked in the door. Yet, despite all that they told him, what stood out to Marco that night was that he had a mischievous sense of humour too.

The mess in his hair and that cocky smirk on Jean’s face had been enough to convince Marco that he needed to know him or, more accurately, flirt with him. Much to Marco’s surprise, Jean had passed back Marco’s subtle innuendos and secret smiles in the middle of convoluted card games. Bets had become flirting and bluffs had become teases until their hosts grew tired and it was time to go home, leaving Marco with a smile on his face and an imprint in his brain.

It would be months before they saw each other in passing and longer still before Marco gathered up the nerve to reach out to Jean online. It became surprisingly easy when Jean messaged back a bad joke and made Marco laugh louder and harder than the joke was worth. One conversation turned into many, and each night came with Marco waiting for Jean to appear online and message him back.

They kept up their record, talking every night and ignoring the call of sleep. Jean spoke of the study that took up most of his time, while Marco spoke of work and dreams and the odd show he wanted to see. When by circumstance, Jean wanted to see one of the same, Marco plucked up his courage, and, with red up to his ears, asked if Jean wanted to see it with him. The moments had passed by painfully slow, but the notification rang and Jean replied with a simple, ‘Yeah. We can bring our friends with us.’

Marco’s head had nearly smashed into his keyboard with how quickly he dropped his head down in embarrassment. He’d just asked this guy out after months of talking and instead of saying yes, Jean suggested they both invite their friends. Marco couldn’t be sure if there was anything more humiliating than the guy he liked not realising he was asking him out. He typed into the keyboard an inch below his face, ‘All of my friends that would be interested, don’t have the money’. He hoped desperately that Jean would take the hint.

A good hour passed, Marco’s head reeling that he had asked what he had been wanting to ask for months and it had completely missed the mark. He doubted he would be able to do it all again after spending the amount of courage he had just built up. Thankfully, just before he was about to retire for the night, a new message from Jean popped up. ‘Oh. You meant the two of us?’

Gritting his teeth and shrieking internally, Marco typed a shy, ‘yes.’ There was no use in pretending anything else and, if the penny had finally dropped, Marco didn’t want to miss out on what this could mean. He could barely pick himself up from the desk, too embarrassed by the whole thing to look at the screen too long in case he might crack and let all the emotions sitting his chest tumble out of him in keystrokes.

Another notification made Marco shake and, with hunched shoulders, he prepared himself for rejection. They’d gotten along great, but Jean was handsome and sweet and clever. There wasn’t a whole lot that Marco had going for him other than starting college late. Maybe he had misinterpreted the whole thing in thinking he had a chance.

Yet, despite his concerns, Jean answered again, and this time Marco had almost fallen off his chair. ‘Oh! Right! Yeah, let me get the tickets.’ Within moments, Jean had found the website, bought the tickets, and asked where they should meet. Marco had never stared at a computer screen as long as he did that night.

Making his way to their meeting spot now, Marco tucked in his shirt and stressed over his hair. He rehearsed all the things he was going to say to Jean when he saw him: probably thank him for the tickets for the third time, compliment what he was wearing because that was the right thing to do, and maybe ask him what he was looking forward to in the show. Perhaps that would hide how nervous he actually was.

All of his rehearsal did not prepare him for the dryness that took to his throat at the sight of Jean waiting on a bench. Hands folded across his knees, Jean stared out in front of him and looked so much less nervous than Marco imagined he did. Jean was dressed neatly, more effort put into the clean-cut jeans and buttoned cotton shirt than the usual tees and cargo shorts he wore. He had even taken care to trim his hair and style it in a way that made Marco’s knees shake just that little bit more as he approached.

“Uh, hi!” Marco called out to grasp Jean’s attention. Staring so closely at Jean, he tripped up the stairs, completely forgetting they were there. Thankfully he caught himself with his other foot and hobbled up to Jean’s side with a smile trying to hide the horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. “You--”

“Look nice,” Jean blurted, glancing over Marco’s own buttoned up shirt. His words stumbled out of him like he had been waiting forever to say them. “You look nice?” Jean sounded like he wasn't sure what to say but settled on the first thing the script in his mind said. His fingers adjusted his shirt self-consciously.

Slack-jawed and shaken by something he didn’t expect, Marco stared down at his own clothes. They weren’t as nice as he could have worn but he didn’t want to look like he was looking forward to this as much as he really was. His enthusiasm might have made Jean feel awkward. After all, he was the one that had been holding a crush for a while.

Marco stuttered in his surprise and threw back his gratitude. “Um, thanks. You too?” That wasn’t anything like he had practised. Instead of the pleasant compliment that he had planned to be specific and nice, he ended up blurted out some kind of half-ass compliment as if he had completely forgotten what words were.

They stared at each other and each other’s clothes for what seemed like ages. Maybe Marco should have said something else. He was so set on telling Jean how good he looked that he was taken completely off guard by Jean wishing to return the sentiment before Marco could even get the words out of his mouth. Some kind of conversation wouldn’t hurt.

“Have you been waiting long?” Marco asked and immediately regretted it. Normally he was much better than this, especially with talking with Jean. Though maybe he had gotten too wrapped up in how comfortable it was to hide behind a screen where his cheeks didn’t give away the way his blood seemed to boil beneath his skin. “I hope you weren’t waiting for me too long.”

Jean shrugged and dove his hands into his pockets. He still couldn’t look Marco in the eye. “It wasn’t too long.” His hand brushed through his hair and gestured down the path with a flick of his hand. “Should we go?” Hearing the slight tremor in Jean’s voice made Marco think that perhaps he wasn’t the only one that was nervous tonight.

“Y-yeah, we’ve got plenty of time to get there.” Marco nodded and started walking down the pathway. The shortcut through the gardens seemed like a nice idea. Wooden bridges crossed small man made streams filled with catfish and waterlilies. The small catchment of trees rose up around the boardwalk path through the park and secluded them both from the crowds of people walking by.

There was something odd for Marco about walking side by side with Jean, especially now that he knew how Marco felt. A kind of buzz filled the air but blissfully none of the silence felt as awkward as Marco thought it might. Every time he opened his mouth, he had no idea what to say, and it felt oddly like he was mimicking the catfish in the river.

Jean broke the silence and ran his hand across the railings of the boardwalk. “So, how’s college treating you?” A hint of moonlight caught in his eyes when he turned to Marco. Everything could have faded away right then and there for all Marco knew. Thankfully he managed to stay in the moment and take in what Jean said.

He shrugged and tilted his head. College had been different than he expected, but so far he was enjoying the experience. It didn’t hurt that he just happened to end up going to the same college as Jean. “It’s been okay so far, but I think that’s the inevitable stress talking.” Marco laughed and wondered if Jean thought he was talking out of his ass. Jean had been at college longer than him after all.

Jean’s smile and laugh through his nose came as a surprise to Marco. Both were a lot softer than Marco anticipated, something gentle and knowing about them despite how cocky and confident he had always presented himself. “Yeah, it’ll get to you. Just wait until finals.” He stared off at the end of the boardwalk, their small interlude soon to end. “You haven’t gotten yourself lost yet?”

Marco had almost completely forgotten that two months ago Jean had given him a personal tour of the campus. As soon as they had parted ways, Sasha swore that she had felt like a third wheel the entire time. Marco guessed that was to be expected when he had spent most of said tour staring at Jean’s lips and wondering how it would feel to kiss them. Thankfully some parts of the tour had stuck in his mind.

Shaking his head and chuckling, Marco declined, “No, not yet, but I’m sure there are plenty of places to get lost.” The trees around them cleared and suddenly Marco felt completely exposed again. He wondered if it was normal to forget how conversations normally worked or question how they had managed to talk to each other up until this point.

Jean didn’t show an inch of nervousness. Somehow in his nice shirt and shoes he managed to look and act like a perfect gentleman. “I’ll have to show you them sometime.” Jean didn’t blink when those words came out of his perfect lips, not a hint of humour or embarrassment showed on his face either. He was serious.

Between the boardwalk ending and the look on Jean’s face, Marco didn’t pay attention to the uneven ground beneath his feet. “That’d - that’d be --” His shoes hit a raised plank in the boardwalk and before Marco knew what was happening, he stumbled forward in a thumping of steps. When he stopped, a few feet in front of Jean, and miraculously not on his ass, he realised he’d stumbled out of his right shoe.

He thrust his arms out to either side for balance and stared down at the sock on his right foot. “What… just… happened?” Heat rising up his neck, he turned around, smiling apologetically at his own clumsiness. “I fell out of my shoe, didn’t I?” Marco lifted his foot off the ground and struggled to maintain his balance, peering over his shoulder just in time to see Jean walking towards him.

Jean bit his lip between chuckles, each one shooting a new arrow of shame into Marco’s chest. “Here you go, Cinderella,” Jean joked, presenting Marco’s right shoe. He paused for a moment, hunching his shoulders while he waited for Marco to take it from him. A quizzical look made its way across his eyebrows and settled above his nose.

Huffing in disdain, Marco quickly snatched the shoe back and tugged it roughly back onto his foot. Sure-footed again, he pressed his foot to the ground. “Really?” Marco stared back into the amused expression on Jean’s face, no longer sure why he was blushing profusely.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who lost their shoe.” Jean pointed at Marco’s foot and then back at the offending plank. Marco cringed at the idea that their date had gotten off quite literally on the wrong foot. “It’s fine. We’ll just keep walking, and make sure you don’t trip over anything else.”

Jean reached out to grab Marco around the shoulder, but quickly froze. The laughter in his voice disappeared into awkward breathing, before he swiftly removed his arm to his side again. He hurried forward with a skip, almost tripping over another boardwalk plank himself, and signalled for Marco to follow along with him. It took a second before Marco could right himself again and walk beside him.

“So…” Marco started, still perplexed as to why Jean had removed his arm so quickly. He wouldn’t have minded if Jean had touched him or even if he had dragged Marco along. Surely he wasn’t completely repellent that Jean couldn’t bear to touch him and had second thoughts. “How many times have you been here?” Marco hoped the change in topic would help him stop thinking about what it might be like to hug Jean.

Jean’s voice seemed to have left him. “Uh…” His eyes glanced over to Marco every few steps, apparently trying to watch the path and Marco at the same time. “A few times. Never for a… date.” His head swiftly faced forward, his jaw clenching as he rubbed his hand up and down his arm.

Marco took his lead and stared ahead. “N-neither.” He couldn’t believe he was here on an actual date, that he was walking beside Jean and that he agreed to this. “So we’re catching the ferry, right?” Marco knew the answer but with topics of conversation fleeing from his mind, this was the best he could hope for.

“Yeah, only way to get across the river.” Jean pointed ahead casually and nodded with a smile. “Should be nice.” A smirk tugged up the corner of his lips. “Unless you trip on boats as well as solid ground.” Jean could have laughed over and over and Marco would have thought it was one of the most pleasant sounds he had ever heard. Even if it was at his expense. Marco couldn’t tell him that though.

He reached across to shove at Jean’s shoulder, scoffing at Jean who continued to laugh at him. Jean stumbled a few steps forward and managed to balance himself before he toppled over. “Hey! I was just making sure you’d be okay.” With raised eyebrows, he assessed Marco with suspicion until he successfully earned Marco’s chuckle.

Marco rolled his eyes and hurried down the path to the ferry terminal. The line before him was short with only few people standing behind the yellow line. The ferry had just begun to dock and it wouldn’t be long before they departed. Jean joined him, sneaking glances and waiting patiently with his hands behind his back. It was a few minutes before they made their way onboard.

Marco led them towards the back, out on the open deck, and settled himself in the rear row of chairs. He hoped at least this way he wouldn’t find himself tripping over if he was firmly planted in a seat. “What do you tend to do when you’re not locking yourself away to study?” Marco asked as soon as Jean sat down beside him. It was his turn to laugh this time, his chuckle scrunching up his nose and forcing his eyes shut.

When he opened his eyes again, Jean had a small smile on his lips and stared out at the glistening black water of the river. “I tend to play violin and sometimes I teach it.” He shrugged, making it seem like he thought it was such a normal thing to do with his time. “Do you play an instrument?”

Marco found himself lost the moment Jean turned to face him, waiting for his answer. “Uh, yeah, kind of?” His face turned up to the sky, hoping that looking away from Jean’s face may allow that warm tingling feeling in it to subside. “I played clarinet growing up, but I haven’t really touched it in a while. So I guess I do?”

Out of the corner of his eye Marco could see Jean tilt his head and lean closer. “Why’s that?” He adjusted himself back into his chair, apparently set on watching Marco’s face. “If you like it, why don’t you do it more?” Curiosity filled the tone of his voice and underneath the canopy of stars hanging in the sky above, Marco immediately felt conscious that the violinist was asking him why he didn’t play.

“Time?” Marco shrugged and turned back to face Jean with a rush of courage in his chest. His heart beat faster the moment he could see the colour in Jean’s eyes. They were warm in the brisk breeze that flowed over them and Marco wasn’t sure if he wanted to risk looking away again. “It just kind of didn’t happen, and then it didn’t happen for a long time. I’d like to play again at some point.”

Jean smiled, nodding in a sense of agreement and encouragement. “You should.” He was completely serious again, eyes open in the kind of genuine honesty that hit people sometimes. Even if he was saying it just to be nice, he sincerely believed what he was saying.

“Yeah,” Marco replied and felt the wash of silence take over the conversation. He didn’t know what else to ask and where the conversation should go from here. Somehow the rest of the journey felt comfortable when they said nothing, even with the gnawing feeling that Marco should try better to keep the conversation going. The stars above and the wind in their hair kept them occupied until the ferry reached their destination.

Jean stood up, balancing as the ferry came to an abrupt stop on the water, and subconsciously offered out his hand only withdraw it a moment later. Unsure of what to do with his limbs, he asked, “This is us, right?” The answer itself was obvious but Marco nodded anyway.

Between getting off the ferry and the end of the show, Marco cursed himself time and time again for not being able to say anything decent. He asked about what Jean was looking forward to in the show, about how pretty the river looked at night, and how cold it was getting. None of it really anything substantial or conversation worthy, but he tried his best. Jean seemed content to smile and answer in short bursts, but Marco still couldn’t tell if the date was going well or failing miserably because of his own awkwardness.

The show itself was hilarious, blissfully distracting Marco from the urge to work his hand into Jean’s sitting on his lap inches away. He snuck looks at Jean who couldn’t stop smiling and chuckling, tapping his knee when he found a joke particularly funny. There were moments that Marco couldn’t believe his luck, sitting next to the guy he had been crushing on for months, and thanked the comedian in quiet whisper that he didn’t have to keep up all the talking himself.

The journey back to the ferry was just as quiet and awkward. Their arms twitched, unsure of what to do or where to be; their faces searched between distraction and each other. Marco couldn’t miss a second of Jean’s movements and wondered whether Jean was deliberately mirroring him or not. He wasn’t sure what answer would be better.

When they made the next ferry back, Jean lead the way to the front, suggesting the view of the river as something they should watch together on their way back. He let Marco take the bar and nudge his way between the masses while Jean stood behind him. Jean’s arm, his body, was so close and yet so far, seeming to wrap around him but too afraid to touch. Marco wished for Jean to move in closer, hold him while they made the journey back, but even he couldn’t find the courage to move himself back against Jean’s chest or lean against his arm.

Marco’s heart raced on the painfully slow ferry trip across the river. Each wave beneath them sent shivers through Marco’s skin at the idea he might trip back into Jean’s arms. He shook away every foolish idea of trying to work his way back intentionally and held tight onto the metal bar until they reached the other side of the bank.

“You had a good time, right?” Marco asked as soon as his foot hit land. He almost couldn’t bear to turn around and see Jean’s face. Truly knowing what Jean thought might have made Marco’s mind explode. He wasn’t entirely ready to see it played across his face so he just listened closely to Jean’s voice.

Behind him, Jean followed, clearing his throat and taking careful steps. “Yeah, it was worth going along.” He caught up by Marco’s side, both of them heading towards the bus stop to head home their separate ways. “I really enjoyed it,” Jean said slowly, sounding out every word like he had to read them all out from a page.

Marco let the relief wash over him with a deep breath. He snuck a look over his shoulder, unable to stop himself from grinning but still able to stop himself for grabbing onto the nearest part of Jean he could reach. Leading the way, Marco watched him from the corner of his eye as Jean caught up and kept pace.

They exchanged smiles, pointing at posters of upcoming shows littered across walls, and made small comments about what they should see next. Marco’s heart sung at the thought that Jean would want to see him again, but it hiccupped when he finally made it to Marco’s bus stop, when their evening had come to an end.

“We should do this again sometime?” Jean stated and asked all at once. He eyed the other commuters waiting by different metal seats of the long, covered bus stop. “Maybe I won’t be so dense.” His laughter rang in Marco’s ears like bells, drawing his attention as if nothing else around them existed.

All Marco could do at first was nod, still swept up and staring at Jean’s face to memorise every detail for the trip home. “I’d like that.” His shoulders hunched themselves upwards, shoes worrying at the concrete beneath his feet. He didn’t want the night to end. “My bus will be here soon, so…”

“Yeah,” Jean agreed as if breathing out the words. His fingers played with the hem of his shirt, unsure of where to go and finding no other refuge. “Is that…?” He peered down the road and squinted at the oncoming traffic. “That’s your bus, isn’t it?”

Marco could feel his heart sink before he even turned to look, and sure enough, his bus would be there any minute. “Think I could get a hug before I go?” he asked, the nerves playing with his vocal chords and betraying whatever visage of confidence he had built up until now. Unsure what to do with his arms, he half-raised them and waited for Jean’s go ahead.

Jean’s smile sent a surge of nervous energy to Marco’s finger tips and time seemed to wait in those moments when they stared into each other’s eyes. “Yeah!” Jean returned the awkward gesture with a laugh, putting out his arms. Marco tucked one of his arms over Jean’s shoulder and the other around his middle in one swift motion, before pulling Jean close.

Marco had thought he had known what nerves were for most of the night. Yet he found himself amazed by how wrong he was in this moment, holding Jean so close, being able to touch him, feeling his arms around him, feeling the heat of his skin. “I had a great time,” Marco blurted, darting a glance up the road just in time to see his bus closing in.

Figuring this was his one and only chance, Marco gulped and pulled back from the hug. The arm over Jean’s shoulder drew back and his hand found Jean’s cheek. With a nervous jitter in his fingers, Marco’s lips found Jean’s.

Marco pressed against Jean, working all the tension of the night out in breathy movements of his lips, almost whining with relief when Jean returned the kiss. They parted with a gasp and an untangling of limbs, only to glance at one another briefly before Marco ran for the bus.

He had no time to look back, waving a quick goodbye and feeling the blood rushing to his face. Marco hopped on the bus ready to hide away forever. He didn’t have the time to linger and wonder if Jean had wanted that, if he had been ready. Marco prayed that Jean couldn’t see him now, embarrassed, ready to hide himself under as many blankets as he could find as soon as he got home.

But when he sat down at the rear of the bus and dared to sneak a glance outside, the eyes staring back at him were Jean’s. He was smiling, biting his lip and softening his gaze as only Jean could. At first Marco couldn’t look back, too overwhelmed by the heart pounding in his chest, the thrill coursing its way through his body, wanting more and never wanting to sleep again.

He found the courage when the bus began to move. HIs eyes looked up to find Jean’s once more and found him waving, still smiling, considerably more pink in the face that Marco had ever seen him before. This time Marco held his gaze, wondering if Jean’s heart was beating in time with his. He said goodbye with a small wave, and ended the night with a press of his hand against the window.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this and want to share it on Tumblr, you can find the Tumblr post [here](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/post/145173698012/underneath-the-canopy-of-stars).
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberryblue) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/).


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